


Falling Is Like This

by Measured



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Community: fic_promptly, Derogatory Language, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 07:05:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1848925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Measured/pseuds/Measured
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was lust at first sight, but before he even realized it, he was falling deeper than he'd ever known.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling Is Like This

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RAXip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RAXip/gifts).



The first time he saw her, his first thought was that he'd definitely get into _those_ pants, the one that hugged her ass so well. And damn, it was a fine ass. Then he got distracted by this one waitress who always wore that low-cut shirt. It wouldn't be until he was walking home later that he'd remember the girl in purple who'd done little more than look back down at her clipboard when he talked to her. Even when he'd shown off his gun boats and told her some of his greatest hits. Man, he'd hit the Mulany boys so hard, their grandchildren would be feeling it.

But the clipboard might as well have been some big guy kicking sand in his face for the way she was paying attention to it. Scout knew how to take a hit and keep going. He saw his new rival, that paperwork which she always had her head in, and he was going to do something so spectacular she'd drop it. 

And then run into his arms, dropping all her work right off. She'd go "Oh, Scout. You're so much sexier than this paperwork. Let's do it!"

Those were the goals he reminded himself as he pushed himself to run yet another mile, until he would have the most frigging strong thighs known to man. 

* 

He sped up when he caught sight of her, and slipped into her office just before the door closed. He'd been perfecting his tough guy stance all weekend just for her, so when he leaned against the wall, he knew it had to be killer. He'd downed a whole package of breath mints, so his mouth was still tingling. But, he could deal. Nothing but the freshest breath for the freshest guy around.

"So, Miss Pauling, what are you doing this weekend—"

"I'm sorry, I'm having a headache this weekend," she said.

"Wait, you schedule your headaches in advance?" Scout said.

"With you around, I'm bound to always have them," she said.

Whoa, burn. It hurt a little, sure. But he couldn't stop smiling. It was just such a great comeback. But he didn't have long to enjoy her victory, as she'd already returned to working. She wasn't looking at him, and that brought out this antsy ache in his chest. He could take her being mad at him, that was pretty hot, but her just barely paying him any mind filled him with a desperate clawing feeling that usually ended up with him breaking something or fucking something up just to get her attention. 

She pushed up her glasses, but they remained crooked as she focused. He tilted his head as he watched, like he'd discovered something. Sure, he knew she'd had a great body, and that she was cute, but watching her now he'd come to realize she was _frigging adorable_. He just sat back and watched her profile, from how her hair fell into her face and she'd push it away every few seconds, to the faint tenseness of concentration.

And the thing was, when that happened, he didn't think about bending her over that desk, but pushing her hair into place again for her. He tilted his head, he didn't go for crap like that. Flowers and dinner and not even kissing until at least the third date.

"Did you need something, Scout?" she said. 

"Yeah," he said. "I need–"

And he almost blurted out _you_ right then and there. He moved a little closer and looked over her shoulder, reveling in the nearness so much that he barely even caught a word on the page.

"You know this is classified. People who read classified TF Industries works end up in shallow graves," she said.

"You think I can _read_ this?" He reached around and pulled the paper up. The words kind of blended together, and shit they were big. He understood 'and' and 'the' and that was about it.

"Phlo...mamajaama something," he said. "Pajama party? Aw yeah, your job is a lot more fun than I thought!"

It'd been a great line, but she didn't even crack a smile as she pulled it from his hands. "That's quite enough," she said. "You have work to be doing, and so do I."

"Good luck slayin' that paperwork, Miss P!"

This time, he did get a little smile out of her. "I'll do my best," she said dryly.

As he walked out, the only way he could explain it was that the world felt like it had tilted, and he had gone on and shifted along with it. Because he'd mocked the chucklenuts who _went out on dates_ and went off and got tied down, but he couldn't get the image of her across the booth from him. One shake, two straws. He'd even share his burger with her if she wanted.

Everything about her had softened for a second. He'd made her like that. And he could do it again, he just had to figure out whatever other dumbass moves he could do to make her happy and somehow manage to not piss her off too much in the process.

It would be a narrow line to tread. But he could do it. Just like he knew he could turn himself into a runner no matter how many bloody knees and blisters he got along the way. He'd find a way to make her happy again.

*

"Crap, crap, crap—frickin' hell, we are _boned!_ "

The alarm lights were blaring on all over. Behind him, Medic screamed. The explosion meant that some chucklehead on the other team hadn't gotten the truce message. Engineer, the one guy who probably could've shut this reactor down was still in Respawn. Maybe Medic could've made a dent, but he was out as well. By the time they got back, the whole base would be little more than a crater in the desert. Respawn wouldn't even be able to help them when it was blown to bits.

Scout looked from wall to wall. That door marked don't enter was open. He was probably rushing towards headlong danger, but he burst through. Some assistants had been blown to pieces in the first explosion that'd rocked the match to a halt. He jumped over the grotesque body parts, skidding on pooled blood. He just barely caught himself on the wall before he fell. 

Some kind of outpost bit of machinery was covered in green text. There were flashing keys and all kinds of stuff that he didn't even know where to begin. He made a panicked noise at the back of his throat. She pushed past him and ripped open the panel in one smooth movement. 

"Hold it open!"

He couldn't even read the _instructions_. She clipped the wires and bent in to do something—he couldn't quite see. He was counting down the seconds of his life, and through the fear, he felt something else. She worked some kind of magic as she stuck her arm in deep, grabbing at the wires, the spark and flare of the lights came to a deafening crescendo. She bit down on the cutters and pulled. With a loud snap, the alarms stopped.

_"Come on, come on—"_

The lights went off, until there was just a dull glow and hum of the backup generators. Scout waited the seconds out, holding tight to that panel as he somehow kept breathing.

Her face was sooty, hair practically all out of that bun, and yet she had saved them all.

"Well, we're going to live another day," she said. 

His heart kept beating so fast, and it wasn't even the aftershocks of almost getting blown to bits. 

"Yeah," he said.

And that was it. All the words were there, but he was speechless as the alarms started to run down and he noticed all the little details all at once. Her stockings were ripped, her lipstick had smudged. In those last minutes of panic, things had solidified. He felt shaken and right and like everything and nothing made sense all at once. She was the one person who could leave him tongue-tied because he wanted to say everything at once. Like how beautiful it was when the wind caught her dark hair, or how just watching her focusing on a book about how to effectively make and bury friends.

She brushed herself off, but only managed to make her dress dirtier in the process. She looked at her ash-streaked hands and sighed.

"I'm off to clean up. Respawn will be back online in a few hours, and we'll bring Medic and Engineer back. You're off until then."

She wiped her hand across her forehead, leaving a trail of ash. "Thank you for the help."

It was only after she'd already left that he finally found the words he'd been looking for. 

_"No, thank _you_ for...just existin'. For bein' incredible and...everythin'"_

*

It was the first time he'd been out on the town in months. It wasn't like he was carving hearts on walls and the few scraggly trees around the place, only a frigging loser would do that. They didn't have her name in them, either. So, he hadn't catted around lately. What could he say? He was busy not carving hearts on trees, not drawing hearts in his notebooks and designing her superhero outfit for when they officially fought crime together, and certainly not getting killed in the matches because he caught a hint of purple out of the corner of his eye.

Now, the local Cluck in a Bucket had everything he needed. The girl next to him was hella hot. Nice ass, great tits, great legs. All out nine, maybe even a ten. She was totally into him, and by all means, everything should be going straight back to his bedroom.

He clung a little tighter to his drink, which was actually ginger ale. It had enough bubbles and look to pass as alcohol, as he couldn't stand the stuff. He'd been slipping twenties to the waitress here on the sly to pretend, and he'd even practiced how to take shots like the real thing by following Demoman around and jotting down notes. 

He was more of a pop guy, but he'd learned the hard way that "Hey, want me to buy you a soda" had the women going _Sorry, hon. You're too young for me, I don't do **jailbait.**_.

"Chicken, huh?" He said. He raised his eyebrows, she smiled back. It was all falling into place, but there was just something niggling at the back of his mind. Something off rhythm completely putting him off his game.

Everything was perfect, except the spark just wasn't there, and it was killing him. Sure, he could get rid of some energy and feel great, but it wasn't giving him that contact high. _It just wasn't the same._ He could take her home and fuck her and leave and then go on with his life never seeing her again, and it wouldn't lead anywhere. The girl here was pretty hot, but all he could think as he looked up was _could she singlehandedly prevent a nuclear meltdown?_ He was pretty sure the answer was no.

He never thought that'd be on his list of what his future lady friend was supposed to have. In fact, he'd been pretty sure up until a while ago that his future lady friend's main qualities would be 'willing and breathing.'

Nobody told him intelligence and competence were this hot, or that much of a dealbreaker.

"Good, chicken's great, yeah, my girl loves it," he said. The eagerness faded in her eyes. The moment was pushed away. He'd gone and cockblocked himself so hard he'd probably never get another girl in town once the news got out. The thing was, he didn't even mind.

He took off after paying for his food. Sweat slicked down his back as he walked through the heat. He'd planned to go on later, long after he'd slept off the heat in someone else's bed.

"Scout, you are a frickin' dumbass," he said to himself, and he'd never sounded happier. He whistled as he went back, fine-tuning the specifics of the superhero outfit he'd draw that Miss Pauling totally deserved.

*

When he got back to the base, Scout only made a pit stop to grab a drink. Not to rest, not even to see the Doc to tune up his legs to make sure he wasn't injured. He limped up the steps to her office. He counted down the seconds as he knocked on her door.

"Come in," she said, sounding more than a little tired. He pushed the door open to her office a crack and peered in. She had this habit of putting stuff in her hair. Pens, paperclips, whatever so it'd be on hand. It made strands come free of her bun. She'd catch it and pin her hair back up, but he couldn't help but like this little bit of messiness in all her order. Today she had three pencils in her hair and a pen behind her ear.

When she looked up at him, all he could think was _God, you aren't a ten, you're a friggin' twenty. You break the mold. How am I supposed to just go out there and flirt with all those other fine ladies who aren't as fine as you?_

"...Did I ever tell you that you got pretty eyes?"

She pushed up her glasses and her finger lingered on the edge of the frame. "Surprisingly, I don't think you ever have. You've complimented _other_ parts of my anatomy, though. Though technically that was just something I overheard. The perks of having security duty."

Now, he didn't have the best memory, but he was pretty damn sure he hadn't gone off to the guys. About random women, yeah. But Miss Pauling, she was like their patron saint. If ever he said she was a hot piece of ass, Soldier would hit him so hard there wouldn't be anything left to come out of Respawn.

She was a secret he wanted to tell everyone and wanted to keep for himself. So, he talked to himself, because he talked to keep himself company, to hear the sound of his own voice.

"Wait, there's cameras in my _room_?"

"There's cameras everywhere. Company policy," She said.

Not even he could make a comeback for that. There was a pretty good chance she'd seen him stroking off to pinups and dancing in his underwear to Tom Jones records. Not at the same time, mind you.

"Well, you do," he said. "Got really pretty eyes, I mean." 

"Yes, well, thank you. However, I need to have these papers—"

"Yeah, I just...wanted to check on you. Wanted to make sure you're okay. And. Stuff. You know, stuff like that."

"Just another dangerous night working on paperwork," she said flippantly.

"Well, I wouldn't watch you to die from boredom. Or loneliness, not that either!"

She chuckled, and twirled one pen away from the desk. "I think I can handle myself when it comes to a few paper cuts."

"Yeah, you can handle yourself, all right! You know, you did great with that whole meltdown stuff. Real class act. But, you don't gotta go at it alone," Scout said.

She looked up from her work, finally giving him the full attention he so craved.

"That's... well. I wasn't alone," she said. Something about the hard angles of her face stilled. He'd started to notice every little detail. The way she'd chew on the edge of her lips when she was conflicted, how she'd pinch the bridge of her nose when annoyed, or grit her teeth.

"Yeah, you weren't," Scout said. "And you don't gotta be."

"Well, thank you, but at the moment I don't need any briefcases stolen, or a repository of dirty jokes and slang. But if I do, I will let you know," she said.

"Oh yeah, I can totally help with that!"

"I'll be sure to call you," she said.

"Yeah, do that! You know my number, and my room. I could be there in a flash—a literal one, even."

"I've been needing an assistant," she admitted.

 _And I've been needing you in my life,_ he thought. For once, he didn't say it. Mostly because the phone had rung, and she picked it up. After answering, she held her hand over the receiver.

"Good night, Scout," she said.

"Yeah, sweet dreams, Miss Pauling," Scout said.

When he got into the hallway, he ran his fingers through his hair over and over, until his hair was a right mess. God, he'd choked. He'd fricking choked right there. He'd had all these suave plans. Real suave, totally kickass and he couldn't remember them when the moment was right.

But even then, he couldn't be too unhappy with anything, not when he'd just spent five whole minutes talking to her. He looked back and couldn't help but just grin and grin. Because it felt like summer inside him, this perfect, even nostalgic happiness that no other girl had given him. No other girl just made him so damn _stupid_ about them. Sure, he'd gone off and done some bonehead things to catch a girl's attention, but none of them had him knocked to his knees and stuttering.

He held his hand against his chest and felt the same rising beating in there, like nothing he'd ever felt before. More intense than that time he saw that super hot girl, a ten at least and she'd winked at him. More intense than his first crush on Kathleen O'Neil, the pretty girl whose every hat he'd stolen in first grade, at least until his ma found out and tanned his hide before making him give them all back.

"God, you are just...one in a million," he said. "You know that?"

She couldn't hear him, but the words felt nice to say. So he'd just have to work it. Maybe practice more poses in the mirror, until he could master every line.

But, Miss Pauling, she was more than a pick up line. She was more than everything he had ever known, and all he knew now was that he had to change up his game. He'd figure out a way, even if he had to crawl on his knees or even worse, ask _Spy_ for help.

"All right, Scout. You can do this. It's just three words: will you go out with me? Not that hard, you've gotten laid for less."

It took him a few seconds to realize the door was open, and she was leaning in the doorway.

"You forgot your cap," she said.

"O-Oh yeah, nice catch!" He said. "Thanks a ton!"

"You do know that the door isn't soundproof, right?" Miss Pauling said. "Nothing is around here, except some of the ahm, classified rooms. Company policy."

"It's true, though," Scout said. "You deserve to have it yelled over all the speaker systems—"

"Some of the men are prone to violently blowing things up when you yell things for too long. Last time they tried to catch you, they destroyed an entire base.

"Loud whisper, then?"

"Can you even manage that?"

"For you, I'll try," he said.

She simply studied him for a moment. The room was silent, and he didn't know what to do with silence, but he didn't really have anything to fill it will. He tried to think of something, _anything_ to fill the room with noise until it wasn't comfortable and he wasn't on the verge of rejection. As she shifted her purse to her shoulder, he saw a glint of metal.

"Oh hey, you got a gun in your purse! So do I! Er, not in my purse, because I'm totally not carryin' one of them, but two guns is better than one, huh? Oh yeah, guns are _great_ — Besides, did I mention can carry stuff. Real good at carryin' things. So, you need somebody to carry your books, er, paperwork, or—" 

"This is entirely classified, mind you," she said in an undertone. She looked from side to side in a very restrained way. The kind of way which wouldn't be picked up on cameras. She was a real smart one, Miss Pauling. His chest swelled with so much pride. 

"See these lips? The really kissable ones? Completely sealed," he said.

"A helping hand and some company would be nice," she said. "It makes the work hours go faster Besides—you're actually rather fun to be around." 

She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, turning slightly to hide what—a smile, a blush, or just the yes that was the answer to all the sappy dreams he didn't even know what to do with. 

He broke into a big smile. He'd never gotten this close to Miss Pauling actually noticing him. She wasn't slamming the door in his face, and even though Scout didn't know the way, but he was going to find out how whatever it took.


End file.
